


Naissance

by chibi_onna



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_onna/pseuds/chibi_onna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short oneshot, a tribute to my favorite hollow.. and yeah, it can be IchiHichi if you squint hard enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naissance

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! It seems my muse came alive especially for Shiro-chan!!! Hehe… This fic is actually a product of procrastination… _cough_ I'm stalling from doing my German homework cough… _Chibi's eyes grow shifty, searching for signs of her professor._
> 
> This fic was conceived during my French literature class, hence the title. I thought that "Birth" didn't quite fit the bill, so I translated it to its French counterpart…
> 
> Saa, enough with my drabbling… On to the fic!

**Disclaimer:** Bleach. Is. Not. Mine. Got it? Though I certainly wish it were.

 

* * *

 

**Naissance**

 

* * *

 

He was borne of all things his king was not. The perfect antithesis to the consciousness of a complex being: the perfect yang to the darker yin. The perfect imperfection, the void that makes the whole complete.

 

His rude awakening was both a blessing and a curse: power that his king acquired at the cost of his own peace of mind. An alien presence so feared to be pushed away so forcefully, so desperately; but a being of his nature cannot simply disappear.

 

He cannot die, for he was borne of death: the urgency of instinct and survival—of irrationality and sheer will. He had experienced freedom once, and he yearned for it. Starved for it. Craved for it as a dying man would futilely grasp at the remaining dregs of his life.

 

He resided deep in the recesses of his king's mind, biding his time, waiting for the opportune moment to break off from the binds that shackled him. He lurked under his king's skin, testing the barriers, going as far as his chains would permit him.

 

His king was nothing but an obstacle, a stubborn boulder on his path. He wanted to crush him, to drown his liege in the abyss of hopelessness to prove that he was the one worthy of such misused liberties. He will snatch that freedom away and dance to the beat of death under the glorious rain of blood, bathing in the crimson affirmation of his existence, power singing in his veins. And no, he will never have enough. He will decimate everything until there is nothing left to destroy.

 

He had been ready to take what he thought was rightfully his, the moment they crossed swords. The more they fought, the more his bitterness consumed him. He had seen his lord at his weakest and it disgusted him to be of inferior status to such a poor excuse of a human. And so he unleashed everything that he had, obsessively reaching for something that was barely out of his grasp.

 

It was a mistake, as he later learned, to underestimate his king.

 

It's a mind-boggling thing, how humans could suddenly gain strength from their own weakness, how they could find it in themselves to do the impossible in the darkest of times. It was something he could never even hope to understand.

 

He suddenly found himself in the defensive, a position that he wasn't used to. He looked deep into his king's eyes and realized, with bleak acceptance and awe, that he can never win. He wanted to own the other's soul, but it was not to be. Even if he did win the fight, his king can never be owned. Even then, he still would have lost.

 

The stark realization shed a new light to his intrinsic desires, the ones he had failed to identify the first time around. That in truth, the proof of his being that he so zealously asserted will never be satisfied by the blind chaos he associated his darkness with. It will only be sated by the acknowledgement of his master, when all the struggling has ceased, and all that's left is a sense of harmony resonating between them: two halves of one soul.

 

He opened his eyes as though for the first time. Right then and there he knew: that it was the moment he had truly been born.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Chibi turns to goo._ I think I just exhausted my mental powers… But it's okay! All for the love of Shiro-chan!!! Hehehe. So please, don't be shy and tell me what you think…


End file.
